


heaven can't help me now

by thisandthisandthis (lumineres)



Category: The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, forgive me if i've got timing things wrong, ig, sad tragic star crossed lovers being sad tragic star crossed lovers, set two years into the war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 09:51:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3377132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumineres/pseuds/thisandthisandthis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, in the night, Patroclus will awake to find Achilles’ shoulders shaking and his breath coming in hot, shuddering sobs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	heaven can't help me now

**Author's Note:**

> my first patrochilles fic, v short but i'm planning like a real length one. this is just something i wrote for an ask meme on my tumblr!! hope u like it?? i think for future fics i'll write in first person like Madeline Miller does but idk yet
> 
> title from taylor swift's Wildest Dreams

Sometimes, in the night, Patroclus will awake to find Achilles’ shoulders shaking and his breath coming in hot, shuddering sobs. They have been at war for two years now, and Achilles has killed so many. 

The other men forget that despite Achilles’ skill, he is just barely a man. He has only turned eighteen just recently, and though his jaw has stubble on it, in Patroclus’ eyes, he is still the thirteen year old he kissed in the shade of a tree. Achilles is not a killer. He has been made into one, and his gift is almost a curse in the way it goes against his nature.

He returns back to the camp every day soaked in blood, eyes shining with excitement. He wakes every morning with sweat-soaked hair and a haunted shadow in his irises.

Achilles’ arm is wrapped tight around Patroclus’ middle, their knees bent to fit each other’s. His mouth his hot and open against the back of Patroclus’ neck, making his skin damp. He is making small choking sounds, whimpers as if he is holding back louder cries. It is a sound Patroclus knows well, when it is late at night and there is a stirring low in their stomachs. But now, there is not a pleasured tone to it, but one of despair.

Patroclus turns over, so that he is facing Achilles. Achilles shifts to press his forehead against Patroclus’. His whole body is trembling.

Patroclus makes a ‘sh’ing noise, like he would to a crying child.

"I’m sorry," Achilles says, choked. It’s more the sound of his lips touching and his breath than any voice at all.

"Don’t be, you are doing what is right."

"I am causing so much pain," he says. His breath blows over Patroclus’ face warmly.

"You are  _Aristos Achaion_.”

"I am the greatest of the Greeks, but I am a monster to the people I kill."

"They do not matter." Saying it goes against all of Patroclus’ true beliefs. Often, when Achilles is away and he’s left at camp, his stomach twists with the thought of how much blood is being spilled at that very moment, how many tears are running down blood spattered cheeks. 

"That’s a lie, Patroclus. You know how I hate lies."

"Then think of the other things that matter. Think of Helen, and how you are saving her. Think of the honor, of the fame. Think of how proud your mother will be. Think of your immortality." Patroclus takes a breath, and says quietly, "Think of me."

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr at xfactorera and on twitter @sophiekink_
> 
> hope u liked it!! criticism is much appreciated


End file.
